


Twin Scars

by AgenderMaine (AngelusErrare)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Trans Character, Trans Male Character, trans female character - mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusErrare/pseuds/AgenderMaine
Summary: There's a reason Wash never showers with the rest of Alpha team.





	

Washington never showers with the rest of the team.

It isn't that he doesn't trust them, or is worried that someone there is gay-- he's bi himself, so that definitely isn't the issue. Wash just... doesn't like communal showering. Florida's singing grates on his ears. Wyoming's banter with York is just a little too far on the side of antagonistic. He has a weird mole on his butt that South would definitely make fun of him for.

None of those are true.

Well, the mole part is, but he's not worried about it.

Every day at 0300 hours he sneaks into the locker room, strips down, and is in and out of the water as quickly as possible. Five minutes, usually. No more-- too much paranoia about someone finding him in the hall, or Maine noticing he's missing, not that the big guy's likely to wake up any time before their alarm at 0500. 

Their locker room is always empty this early; the Freelancers enjoy their sleep, except for Florida and Carolina. The eerie silence always bugs him more than the sound of running water echoing through the room. It's a sound he's used to, sure, but this kind of silence should never be heard on an active military ship.

This kind of silence should have been broken by footsteps. His first sign that someone is there shouldn't have been them rounding the corner.

His boxers are still on, thank god, but it's too late to pull his shirt back on when he sees the movement in his peripheral. His towel is already on a hook outside one of the stalls, so that's out too. There's nothing to hide behind.

North wasn't due back until several hours from now. He looks like hell; the bags under his eyes have bags, he's limping pretty badly, and there's a bulge in his shirt where a large swatch of gauze is taped to his side.

"Hey," he calls, voice thick with exhaustion, and Wash feels bad for hoping he's too tired, too out of it to notice.

Of course he sees. Wash catches the exact moment those pale blue eyes trail down his exposed chest, drawn to the twin scars stretching under his pecs.

Standing there frozen, he waits for the gasp, the sudden realization that he's _different,_ that he isn't what he said he was. Testosterone has done wonders for his voice and chest, and that along with access to UNSC equipment has shaped his muscles so it's almost impossible to tell.

Almost. His packer hides the lack of a bulge in his underwear, but there's no hiding the scars.

Most people don't care. The ones that do usually aren't rude about it, but there are always exceptions. Growing up taught that him that lesson all too well. Some people go out of their way to be cruel.

But this is the military, not high school, and Wash hopes that makes all the difference.

North's head tilts as recognition dawns in weary eyes. "Hey, Wash," the Dakota murmurs, crossing over to his locker.

It takes several seconds for his tension to melt into surprise. Wash is still standing there, mouth agape, when North starts stripping down, wincing as the fabric tugs at his bandages. He _saw_ , there's no way he _didn't_ see, and all he has to say is "hey"? "I-- what?"

Even exhausted, North's smile is still warm. He nods to Wash's chest before turning back to his locker. "We suspected, but didn't want to pry."

"'We'?" Wash echoes.

"South wanted to ask ages ago," North explains, turning enough for Wash to catch a glimpse of his chest. Arcing just beneath his pecs are two scars, paler than Wash's but thicker. "I told her if you wanted to tell anyone you would. Not everyone's as open as she is."

"Yeah, she's not really that tactful, huh," Wash mumbles, then frowns when North chuckles at him.

"That's not what I meant."

"Y-you're kidding me. Both of you?"

North nods, grabbing a washcloth and walking toward one of the shower stalls. Wash follows, a little dazed, watching North as he turns the hot water on and soaps his cloth.

"Rest of the team's known for weeks, and so would you if you ever showered with us." For a split second he smirks, shaking his head. "Must be hell not scrubbing immediately after missions."

Nodding absently, Wash fiddles with the knobs for the water, finally turning it on. A few minutes pass in silence as the two of them clean off- North rubbing himself down with the washcloth just out of range of the water so as not to ruin his bandage, Wash peeling off his boxers once behind the low wall and quickly soaping his hair.

When he starts to rinse, Wash breaks the silence, voice slightly raised to be heard over the water. "So did everyone but me know about you and South?"

North shakes his head. "Only our team. None of the others do, and you know what a prick Missouri is already." 

Wash sighs. "He'd open his mouth and South would break his jaw." A pause, then he adds "He'd deserve it."

The rest of the shower passes on in silence, Wash scrubbing a day's worth of sweat and anxiety off of his skin and North trying not to get any of his bandages wet. Wash catches himself sneaking looks at the older soldier, as if worried the scars have suddenly disappeared or something will happen to tell him this is all a dream. Maybe North will suddenly turn into Cthulu.

Nope, still human. Running the cloth over shoulders built so well by years of sniping, wincing as he puts pressure on bruises. Wash isn't alone. He hasn't been alone since the beginning as he thought, and his fears of rejection by the team were apparently totally unfounded.

He switches off the water, snatching his towel from the hook outside his stall and hastily toweling off his legs so he can pull his boxers back on as quickly as possible. He can hear North groan as stretching pulls at the bandage on his side, but a moment later his shower turns off as well.

Wash doesn't look at North again until he's pretty sure he has underwear on, but now they're both focused on pulling on clean, warm clothes. Wash's sweats are soft, thick, and oversized, while North's are a little short considering his height. North takes one glance at his shirt and throws it over his shoulder. It's not worth irritating his wound trying to pull it over the gauze. Their lockers slam shut at almost the same time, North leaning against his.

"Hey, Wash," he starts, waiting for the rookie to turn. "Don't worry about anyone finding out. I won't tell anyone unless you're comfortable with it."

"Thanks," Wash manages to reply, a nervous smile across his face. "Maybe soon, but... not yet."

North nods before bidding him good night and making his way out of the locker room. Wash hesitates, then decides he can process everything later, after he's safely gotten back into bed and snagged the last hour or so of sleep he can get before the day actually starts.

At least now someone else knows. And hey, now Washington knows he's not alone, either.


End file.
